


Hex

by robotfvckers



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Begging, Blow Jobs, Colemance, Daddy Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 06:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4867319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotfvckers/pseuds/robotfvckers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blackwell is hit by a spell. Cole helps.</p><p>From the kinkmeme: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/14614.html?thread=57993750#t57993750</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hex

Solas' soured face did little to comfort Lavellan when he emerged from the tent.

“That bad?”

“It is beyond my ability to assist him.” Solas said, crossing his arms tightly. He studied his feet like they were covered in ancient elven runes. Lavellan frowned; Solas only got this way after experiencing something most unpalatable, usually involving shems.

“What do you mean?” Lavellan asked. “Everyone’s taken more than a few spells to the head, but it’s always been treatable."

“You misunderstand.” He bit back as he shifted uncomfortably. “I just...it is..difficult to put into words. I have only known this enchantment to exist within the fade. I believe it was a wraith or spirit."

She waited for him to continue, eyebrow arching. "This is your area of expertise."

"In identification, perhaps. Not treatment.” Solas held himself tighter.

She stared at him for a few hard seconds, fiery eyes narrowed; he didn’t look back, but his face grew redder. She crossed her arms.

“Just tell me what’s going on!”

“He _burns_.” Cole appeared next to them, rocking lightly on his haunches. Lavellan had sent him to comb the area for remaining threats, but she figured he was done and lurking about. She was right.

“The fire pulses through him, hot and dry, first, then slick, the feeling after tepid rain. He strokes, trembling hands, but there’s no succor.”

Lavellan looked like someone slapped her in the face with a dead nug. Cole tugged the loose threads on his shirt sleeve.

“You mean—”

“He hurts. In his gut and loins. An itch that can't be scratched.”

“ _Ma ghilana mir din'an_!” She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, coloring a shade to rival Solas’. “If it’s not one thing with these humans, it’s another. You’re telling me he had some freaky sex spell cast on him?”

“To state it in a few vulgar words, yes.” Solas chided tersely. “It’s similar to the glamor of a benign spirit, perhaps one of love or passion. Normally, the spirit would claim their intended and disperse, the target no worse off. We seemed to have killed them before they could fulfill their purpose, judging from Blackwall's current state."

“How exactly do you know all this?”

“ _Soft giggles echo in his head. Mischievous kisses upon sharp ears. The heat pulses, not unpleasantly. Not when she is there to stoke and extinguish._ ” Cole said in the wispy, matter of fact way he said everything.

“Cole!” Solas barked; if he grew any redder, Lavellan thought he might pass out, face puckered like he ate an entire lemon.

“Some things are better off not knowing, thank you.” The inquisitor sighed, rubbing her temples. She was developing quite the headache. “And relax, Solas, everyone already thought you were getting your kicks in the fade. We still put up with you.” Solas made another indignant noise as Lavellan rolled her eyes. It was almost too easy.

“What are our options?”

“I think this may be something only a spirit can alleviate. The circumstances are not the same, however, so I can only—."

“I’ll do it.” Cole said. His gaze shifted to the tent. “It’s getting worse.” He was almost inside before Lavellan could protest.

“Wait! Are you sure?” She shifted, biting her lip.

“I want to help. It doesn’t matter if I’m not the right fit. I have to try.” He canted his head back toward her, but the rim of his hat blocked his face.

“ _Damn, I don’t want him to do this, but we’re ten day’s trek from Skyhold._ ” Cole mimicked Lavellan’s cadence with perfect clarity. She would be afraid if she wasn’t so impressed. “Please don’t feel bad. I can make you forget if you want.”

“I do not like it either, but we have little choice.” Solas replied. He hesitated before withdrawing a small vial from his pocket. He took Cole’s hand and placed it in his palm.  "Use this if necessary.”

Cole stared down at the container before closing his hand around it.

“What is it?” He asked.

Solas bristled. “It’s...lubricant.” He felt like a keeper giving a coming of age talk.

The spirit just looked at him.

"If he tries to do something that is uncomfortable or painful, it's okay to say no. Even if you think it will help, it shouldn't be at the cost of your well being." Solas placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do you...know what you are prepared to do?"

Solas waited for some sort of response. The spirit nodded after a beat.

"I will read the hurt and make it go away. The thoughts will help."

Solas nodded, relief visible on his face.

"Be careful, Cole. We'll...keep the area secure." Lavellan managed, but the spirit was already gone.

\-----

Blackwall only slowed his hand when a figure eclipsed the soft light of the glowstone. It was too hot for furs, but Solas wanted to preserve what little modesty the warden had before his retreat. Much good it did, when surely everyone in the camp knew about it. Their speech was muffled, but the bickering had grown loud outside.

He was swollen, tight and raw, like he could burst but not in the way he wanted. The interruption made him hiss through clenched teeth.

“Go away, elf.” He pressed a sweaty palm to his face, his other hand twitching, drawing lines against his thigh, resisting and nearly failing to be decent.

“I’m not an elf.” Someone who was decidedly not Solas responded. _Maker’s balls, Cole._

“Get out.” Blackwall grunted with all the spite he could muster.

He sensed rather than saw the boy sink to his knees. The air shifted like pressure before a storm. A gentle tug, the faintest hum of...what he didn't know. Sensation, song, whispers. He swore, stomach clenched, whole body pulsing with a new thick wave of want. He sunk his fingers into the meat of his thigh, paralyzed by its intensity.

“You want me to stay. The thoughts in your head don’t match your words."

Blackwall couldn’t stop himself from scanning Cole’s smooth, unlined face as it loomed close. It was the first time he had seen the boy without his hat. Sandy eyelashes outlined faded eyes, a ghosting of peach fuzz conformed to his sharply drawn cheeks. Blackwall became uncomfortably aware that he was old enough to be the boy’s father.

“ _Father_.” Cole whined in an eerily familiar tone. It made the warden’s toes curl; convoluted thoughts thrumming through his head, faster than he could interpret, flashes of old memory.

“The soldier was so young; you didn’t even know his name. He yearned for you. You let him into your bed that night, but it was the last time you saw him alive. Fractured your armor, a stab of a poison-coated blade. He ignited an ember you never entirely smothered.” A hand cradled his face, rough from use, too warm. Blackwall trembled with the effort to not lean into it. It was so hard to think. Everything was blurred color and heat.

“The unextinguished flame became a raging wildfire.”

“ _Stop._ ”

“It wasn’t your fault. You took his hurt away. Butterflies in his chest, calming words in his ear, sweet pressure in his belly, release. Calloused hands, accepting and gentle, even when you were holding him down.”

Cole stared at Blackwall, tilted his head, eyes large, unworldly.

“Father.” Cole whispered, in his own voice. Blackwall groaned.

“You don’t want to like when I say it. It’s okay.” Blackwall could only half-listen, focused instead on Cole’s sharp cupid’s bow, the slight gap in his teeth, the flicker of his tongue.

“You don’t want this. Me.” The warden said, fingers twitching; they twisted into the furs beneath him so he didn’t grab the boy.

“I want to help. This is my decision.”

He leaned down, pressed a kiss to Blackwall’s sweaty brow, another to the apple of his cheek. Each touch felt like a shock, intoxicating and sweet. Cole laved the shell of his ear, tugged gently with his teeth, made him gasp. His mind buzzed, vibrated with sensation. Rightness. The spirit sucked and kissed marks down his neck, unraveled him, tender, insistently. Where did Cole even learn how to do that? He distantly felt the furs tear beneath his hands.

“Dark, hidden corners of the tower’s corridors. The Iron Bull’s fantasies and sweet whispers to tavern patrons below. Cassandra’s voice trembling through her favorite scenes in the pages. The amorous ministrations of a young soldier, wanting so badly to please. Living for this stolen moment.”

Cole shifted the furs aside, his mouth twisting into an almost smile.

 _It makes him handsome_ , the warden thought, feeling revulsion and want in equal parts.

“You’re hairy.” Cole carded his hand through the dark, wiry curls. Blackwall released a sound that’s nearly a laugh, but it was quickly silenced by the same hand trailing down the slick, feverish planes of his stomach. The warden bit back a yell, grabbed the boy's wrist as it encircled his cock. Too sensitive, but his mind pounded with rightness, need.

"Sorry. I'll try again." Cole said, tone laced with worry. He released Blackwall, relief and frustration warring inside the warden. There was a soft pop of an opened bottle and then furious swearing as Cole’s hand returned, slick and cool.

He stroked him awkwardly, hindered by the warden’s grip. Blackwall couldn’t bring himself to look at the boy, had shut his eyes though he wasn’t sure when he had done so.

“ _I can’t. I can’t let him do this._ ” Cole murmured. “You can.”

A hot tongue flicked over his nipple. Blackwall’s mind reeled; this boy had him flushed and gasping like a maid. Cole latched his lips against his chest, sucked hard, teeth nipping the sensitive skin. Dazed, his grip loosened around Cole’s wrist. The boy’s hand was clumsy, but he learned quickly, damn the spirit for using his thoughts against him. It felt completely different than his own hand, the promise of fulfillment whispering in his mind like benediction.

“Am I doing good?” Cole spoke against his swollen nipple, hot breath caressing wet skin. Blackwall tensed, stilled the boy’s wrist in an immediate vice. He wanted to scream.

“Isn’t right.” The warden said through his teeth, trapped Cole’s free hand when it moved to replace the other.

“Please, Blackwall.” Cole’s words, quiet and low, pressed against his belly. _When had he moved?_ Everything blurred like a dream, too slow. His tongue dipped into the hollow of his hip, moving lower; Blackwall held back tears when the first hot swipe of tongue slid across his cock. Relief. Rightness.

“Maker, _Cole_.” He pulled the boy’s hands up towards his chest, but the rogue held steady, took him inside his mouth smoothly. More swearing, a choking noise. The boy adjusted, studied the silent fragments of the warden’s thoughts. The tip of Cole’s nose hit against his stomach. _Deep, Maker, it’s all..._ Cole hummed, tongue sliding against the underside of his cock.

Blackwall moaned brokenly, eyes slipping open. Cole was staring at him through blond eyelashes, pupils blown and face flushed. He moved before he could think, fisted his hands in pale, tangled hair. He tugged Cole’s head back completely before fucking into his mouth in one swift thrust. The spirit inhaled sharply through his nose, moaned hard against him.

“Fuck. _Fuck_.” Cole’s lubed fingers slipped between the warden’s legs; he pressed into him, curled two fingers against a spot that blackened his vision. Cole weaved Blackwall’s free hand together with his own, holding it tightly.

The warden held him still as his hips snapped forward at a brutal pace, watching his cock disappear into Cole’s mouth was too much to take. The boy’s fingers and mouth worked him apart; one low continuous moan filled the air as Blackwall spilled hot and thick into Cole’s mouth, turning into a curse when the spirit swallowed what he gave.

The warden untangled his fingers from the boy’s hair, hand absently stroking his temple. Cole withdrew; cum and spit slipped past swollen lips as he coughed, gulped in air.

Blackwall watched Cole as he caught his breath; he looked wrecked _(good)_ between his legs. The thought was dizzying, alarming.

Cole’s eyes narrowed, brow drawn low.

“It’s not softening. Still wrong.” His voice was hoarse, breathless, the sound made Blackwall’s skin feel tight. Cole begun to moving his fingers inside him again, tongue returning to his cock.

 _What was he doing?_ Blackwall hauled the boy over his lap, hissing as the fingers tugged out roughly. Cole yelped, scrambling to find purchase. The warden locked his large forearm around the boy’s waist, keeping him pinned over his thighs.

“Is this just a game to you? Boy?” He didn’t recognize his own voice. “Ignoring my protests, invading my mind. I told you to stop.”

Cole squirmed, worn leathers chafing against Blackwall’s skin. “M’sorry, I was trying to help. You were l-lying to me.”

The boy’s form flickered and disappeared. Blackwall felt a tremble up his spine, reminded again that Cole wasn’t human, but his weight was still there. He brought his hand down hard on the boy's ass. The spirit cried out, reappeared.

“Think you can just leave? Finish your duty and go?”

“You’re angry. I’m sorry. I can make you forget. I’ll start over.”

Blackwall barked, the laugh low and deep. “That’s your problem. You never learn your lesson.” He tugged down his pants in three rough jerks. Blackwall bit his lip as Cole’s skin came into view; the bright red handprint a sharp contrast against pale skin. He couldn’t help but notice a spattering of freckles on the small of his back.

“She’s beautiful like this. Chestnut hair spills—”

Blackwall slapped him again. Cole tried to leverage his escape, planted his hands on Blackwall’s arm that held him. The warden tightened his grip, leaving no room for real struggle.

“You wanted to play my son? I’ll show you what happens to a whelp who doesn’t know his place.” Small noises bubbled out Cole like a litany. Apologies, begging, perhaps, but he couldn’t tell. Didn’t care.

The next slap made Cole louder, twist violently against him. Nails sink into his arm, a fine tremble overtaking the boy. Again Blackwall struck, and Cole jerked so hard he nearly let him go. The boy’s movements forced something wet and slick against his thigh.

“P-please, Blackwall. There’s...I…” He trailed off on a whimper, buried his face into the furs.

Everything slowed; the implications left Blackwall reeling. He found Cole’s hot, very human cock, flat against his stomach, dripping. His mouth went dry. He would’ve suspected the boy had already come had he not held the evidence of the latter in his hand.

“How long have you been like this?”

Cole trembled harder. He hit the boy, softer this time, stroked his cock once. He mewled.

“How.” _Slap_. “Long?” _Stroke._

“H-he stares at me, eyes dark, needing, t-the thoughts are memories, b-but some are of me. Confused, I am the boy but not, these feelings are mine and h-h-his, _Maker_ , w-what is…I-I kiss his stomach.”

Nearly the whole time.

Blackwall kneaded the abused flesh while his mind reeled; madness made his hand eager and rough until the boy’s narrations devolved into moans and whimpers and harsh gasping.

He knew Cole was reading his mind when his struggles intensified.

"Stay out of my head, boy. I'm not done with you."

The warden reached for the uncapped vial at his side; thick gel staining the already ruined bedding. He coated his hand with more than was necessary, tried to still his quivering hands.

"I...I can'-t. I...plea-se...."

Blackwall smeared the lube over his hole and slowly pressed his index finger inside.

The furs did little to muffle Cole's loud, high-pitched cry. Blackwall pushed deeper. The boy was blazing, tight, incredibly sensitive.

"Reading emotions isn’t the same as first hand experience, is it?" He bit out, though he wasn’t sure Cole was even capable of hearing him anymore.

The warden withdrew his finger, thrust further the second time. He wanted to be gentler, but Cole's reactions had razed anything left in him that was rational. After a few thrusts, he curled his finger, searching for the same spot that Cole had teased within him.

"O-oh...!" Cole's hips hitched, attempted to follow the hand between thrusts. Blackwall pinned him tighter.

"No moving.” He commanded, stern, then pleased. “You like that. I don't need mind powers to tell."

He added a second finger, fucked him harder, twisting them. The exhilaration of complete control had him thick and aching again; maybe he had been that way ever since he pulled the boy over his thighs. The thought soured his stomach, but it was impossible to stop with this creature at his mercy: wild, deadly and innocent, scoring his arms, back arching like a drawn bow.

"Do it, boy. Come." Blackwall said, gravel rough, as he shoved three fingers, hard, against his good spot. Once. Twice.

Cole sobbed through it all, coating Blackwall's thighs, Maker and Blackwall, the pleas and sounds forced from his lips like it hurt. Blackwall didn't stop until the boy was near boneless and twitching, sweat-slick and pliant in his lap. After a long moment, he gingerly removed the hold around the boy’s waist and withdrew his fingers.

“Cole.” He murmured. Blackwall rolled him over; a weak moan bubbled from his lips.

His unnatural eyes were closed, hair plastered against his face and neck, mottled red and flushed. Lips bitten and panting. Blackwall inhaled sharply through his nose. He had...done this. A slow panic grew. The warden tried to comfort him, brushed the damp bangs out of his eyes.

“No…” The boy whispered, rough and fucked out. Dread eclipsed everything. “...don’t do that.”

Blackwall flinched as if he had touched hot coals. The boy’s lips thinned into a frown. His eyes fluttered once, opened fully.

He was too shocked to react when Cole kissed him; trembling lips only catching the edge of his mouth. The warm insistence of tongue past his teeth shattered the remaining levies of his restraint. The sounds that rumbled from the warden’s throat were inhuman.

Blackwall kissed him like it would be his last, fingers buried in the hair at the base of the spirit’s skull; keeping Cole’s mouth close and open, sucked on his tongue. The spirit cupped the side of Blackwall’s head, other hand grasping his scarred shoulder.

They stayed locked together, shaking, sucking and biting, until they couldn’t breathe. Cole tried to pull back first, and Blackwall almost didn’t let him, but he settled for marking the boy’s neck with his lips and teeth while Cole gasped and keened.  

Blackwall tugged off Cole’s shirt, lowered him to the furs. He drank in the sight of him, hummed quietly. Cole was more than skin and bones, but not much, corded muscles, scars.

“Dusky chest, the color of his lips. Is that strange?” Cole asked, reached to touch his own nipples curiously.

Blackwall nudged one of his hands out of the way, rolled a pink nipple between two fingers; it pebbled quickly under his touch. Cole squeaked, worried his lip. Blackwall slid his other hand between the boy’s thighs, worked back inside him, pleased to find it still wet and smooth. Cole’s small, quiet sounds burned through him. The spirit stared down the line of their bodies, watched Blackwall touch him.

"He sucks, kisses, claims. K-knows this will only be—" Cole groaned, twisting under his touch, fists anchoring into the bedding. "I.."

"I'm going to take you." Blackwall finished, his only warning before he lined himself up, hands braced on the boy's hips. Cole nodded once, never looked away when the warden pressed forward.

They both groaned; Blackwall buried to the hilt in two deep thrusts. The boy shook, eyes almost closed. His gaze rose from their bodies to study Blackwall’s face. Cole never stopped moving or quieted, like he was being taken apart just as much as the boy was ruining him in turn.

Blackwall breathed shakily, feeling nearly as stifled as when they began, even without the lull of the curse in his ears. Everything about this, about Cole, was so shockingly intimate, even though he barely knew this boy. Maker, he wasn't even human.

"Please...I..." Cole whimpered, derailed his thoughts with a sinuous roll of his hips.

Blackwall fucked him hard. He had no barriers left; all that remained was Cole, twisting beneath him. It was exhilarating. Terrifying. Cole canted his body, met the warden’s thrusts as best he could. He tugged the warden against him, arms locked around his neck.

"Blackwall...." Cadence rough, name barely formed, but whole body throbbed. "H-harder." The request was meek, muffled into the skin at this throat, punctuated by a shaky kiss. Blackwall _growled_.

He could almost feel the boy bruising beneath his grip, knowing how debased he would look, Blackwall’s marks all over him; his pace quickened, could feel himself drawing tight again, felt the tension between his eyes. Cole grew more vocal, debauched noises forcing him harder, faster still. The boy’s hips stuttered; his voice cracked...was he…already?

The warden drew back, but didn’t stop moving, watched the boy come undone all over himself. Eyes closed, mouth red, round, tears staining his cheeks. Twitching helplessly the whole time. Breathtaking. Cole’s movements finally drew sluggish and weak after what seemed like forever. Blackwall slowed, though it pained him. The spirit laughed, raspy and low.

“D-don’t stop.” He breathed, looking like an inch from unconsciousness.

Cole’s legs locked around his waist, straining to get more of Blackwall’s cock inside him. He could tell the boy was oversensitive, spent; Blackwall needed only tear away and he wouldn’t be able to stop him. The warden hastened instead, body so taught it felt like he would break; a few more thrusts had Cole’s name spilling from him along with his seed, giving the boy everything he had left.

For a while he could only focus on the sound of their breathing, the rattling of his heart against his ribcage. The warm slickness of Cole’s body. His mind slowly returned, awareness expanding beyond his release. Cole whimpered when he drew out of him, looked sore and exposed, the evidence of their coupling pooling beneath him. Angry bruises darkened his hips, matching marks at his neck. All his doing.

He threaded his fingers through his hair, trying and failing to push it back into place, like it would sort everything out. His hands were unsteady as he fished through his satchel, retrieving a potion and a scrap of cloth. Blackwall uncorked the vial, held it to the boy’s lips. Cole drank without protest; Blackwall couldn’t help but eye the trail of a drop that missed Cole’s mouth and rounded the curve of his lower lip.

Cole finished most of the liquid; it revived him a little, made the bruising fade into something less incriminating. Blackwall gingerly cleaned the boy’s body as best he could, cloth dampened with the remainder of the potion.

“Are you okay?” Blackwall asked, finally. Anxiety and shame became an insistent thrum in the back of his mind. Cole deflated, startlingly quiet, resignation in the lines of his face.

“It didn’t unravel. I wanted to help, but I hurt you instead.” Cole murmured, distraught.

Blackwall couldn’t move, didn’t know what to say. His eyes itched, head throbbed. “No, it’s not—”

“Don’t. Lie.” Cole snarled. “I wanted it. Submitted. Why? You didn’t force me to do anything. I don’t know how else to make you understand.”

Blackwall laughed, sounding and feeling crazed. “Your body is barely out of its teens, and you are a child when it comes to being human.” He stared down at his own hands. “This kind of desire isn’t right.”

“I’m older than you know, and I enjoyed it.” Cole said without inflection. “But it hurts you just the same. I’m sorry.”

Blackwall lifted his face, poised to speak. He reached desperately for Cole’s open palm, but it was too late.

“Forget.”

\-----

The warden blinked, mind and vision cloudy, indistinct, like the warm drone of one too many ales. He was sure someone had just been there, speaking with him. Blackwall furrowed his brow, but the notion of any conversation slipped out of his consciousness like a faded dream. He’d taken a pretty nasty hex, remembered Solas saying something about it being a strange incantation. He felt fine though, sated, a little sore. Must’ve worked itself out of him. Blackwall found it a little unnverving that he was naked, but he sometimes slept with little when they traveled to humid backwater outreaches.

“Blackwall. We should head out. We only set up camp until you recovered.” Lavellan’s voice came from outside the tent. She sounded terse, frazzled.

It was only when Blackwall began packing that he noticed he was missing a fur and one of his potions. He shook his head, admonished himself for being so forgetful.

The trip back to Skyhold was long and quiet, the only enemies the wildlife for once. Solas and Lavellan’s bickering was strangely minimal, and he only saw Cole once or twice. The boy kept volunteering to scout ahead. No muddled allegories or embarrassing childhood tramas exposed. It made him grateful, but it made him worry too.

\-----

“That’s some hickey, Blackwall.” Sera whistled, invading his personal space. They were seated inside her hideously decorated room, enjoying an after mission drink.

“What’re you talking about?” Blackwall replied after generous gulp of ale.

“It’s all gross and yellowed about the edges. Right there.” She poked the side of his neck harshly. He grunted, rubbing the tender skin.

“What in the Maker’s name…” Sera handed him one of her gaudy hand mirrors, probably pilfered from some lordling. There was jam smeared along its edge.

“I won’t let you play this one off, warden.” She crossed her arms, big shit-eating grin from ear to ear. “Someone must reaaaaaaaaally like you!”

Blackwall angled the mirror, shifting his beard to get a better look. They were faded and didn’t hurt, but they were most definitely marks.

“I don’t...remember…” He finished lamely. There was something missing, like trying to recall a word just on the edge of consciousness.

“Mhmm. Sure.” Sera replied, stealing his abandoned drink and taking a hearty swig. He didn’t protest even when she downed the entire flagon.

Blackwall didn’t feel like drinking anymore.

 

 


End file.
